Devil in Disguise

A warm, tingling sensation jets through your bloodstream as you push down on the plastic plunger. Every bit of stress you possess is broken down and sent away like waste. You suddenly know what actual relief feels like. The original definition you claimed does not do it any justice now. You’ve finally found your personal nirvana. Heaven on earth.

It’s like being a child again, wrapped in your mother’s arms. Her telling you, “Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe now.”

You’ve now seen how the world actually is, in all its colorful magic and whimsical wonder. However, everything that goes up must descend back to its original state, with your anticipation of wanting to ascend again. When you come down off of it, the world morphs back to a dull black and white rerun. Thus, you want to see the magic again.

And again.

Then after so many times, the want becomes a need. This is the insidious craving for more. It’s an invisible force which at first lulls you back to it, but the more you use, the more that sweet lullaby becomes something more menacing. A stranger in the night, when you’re home alone, breaking into your safe world—your safe life—coercing you to her nasty will.

There, is the double-edged sword that she wields—when you can quit, you don’t want to, but when she has you in her gritty grip and you want out, you can’t stop.

You’re stuck in a deep underground cavern that you have dug for yourself. It wasn’t her that did this to you, she merely gave you the shovel. The shovel you used to dig your own grave.

As you lie trapped in your own prison hole, passersby stare in pity, commenting to one another things of the past: “They used to be such a nice person; was always responsible; what happened?”

Like the rest of them, they walk-on, without any thought of tossing down a simple rope. But even with a rope, your body has become too weak to save itself.